


αμνησία

by ink_dragons



Category: A Dark Room (Video Game)
Genre: no huts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ink_dragons/pseuds/ink_dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have awoken. Your head is throbbing, your vision is blurry, and you only remember one thing. You are a Wanderer. Come, light the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	αμνησία

Awake. Head throbbing. Vision blurry.

You gasp as you are plunged into wakefulness. Hazy shapes swim along your vision, and your head throbs to a sharp staccato beat. You sit up, take in your surroundings. You are in a room. A dark room.

The air is freezing. The fire is dead.

There is wood in a corner. You heave yourself to your feet, grimacing at the soreness of your muscles. Taking the wood, you snap it into smaller pieces with little difficulty and arrange it on top of the ashes and coals. Sparks dance, catching and licking at the dry wood.

The room is warm.

The flickering firelight climbs the wooden walls. You notice windows, panes of glass cracked and splintered, letting warmth out and bone-chilling cold in. The door is gone, having been ripped from its rusty hinges.

A few minutes pass and you poke at the fire with a charred stick. Put more wood on the blaze.

The fire roars. The room is hot.

A stranger stumbles in, collapses by the fire. You look at her, startled. What is she doing here? You snort. What are you doing here? You stoke the fire.

Time passes. The fire is dying. The stranger twitches in her sleep. You feed the fire with the last of the wood.

You cautiously creep out the door. Trees tower around you, dead limbs clawing at the starry sky. Intimidated, you scuttle backwards. You chastise yourself sternly, square your shoulders. You are not a coward.

You venture out into the silent forest. You pick up dry brush and dead branches and your thoughts drift to the stranger.

Hope she's alright. Got to keep the fire going.

You circle back to your shelter. The flickering light of the fire is a homing beacon in this dark world. You dump the wood that you gathered in an empty corner. You hear unintelligible mumbling emanating from the stranger. She shivers. You add more wood to the greedy fire.

You make several more trips to gather wood. The simple task focuses you, grounds you. Between the third and fourth trip, the stranger's breathing evens out. She stops shivering. By now you have a decent amount of wood. You place some of it on the fire.

Her eyelids flutter and then snap open. She groans, holds her head. After a moment she sits up slowly and looks around the room. Her eyes land on you. She stares at you, frozen with shock. You stare back at her. The way she's looking at you is unnerving.

She says she's a friend. Says she can build things. She smiles, fingers her locket.

You sit there, not quite knowing what to do. The Builder's presence makes you feel off. It has been a long time since you were in the presence of another Wanderer. You do not know how long, as this short life of gathering wood and feeding the fire is the only one you can remember.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This story is not written yet. This means I might not update it regularly. You have been warned.
> 
> 2\. The story title, as well as the chapter titles, are in Greek. I used Google Translate. It might not be the most accurate translation.
> 
> 3\. I don't own ADR.


End file.
